


It’s Cold Being Alone

by blue_skie_s



Series: its warm when im cared for, for once [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Dadza, Hurt/Comfort, I AM IGNORING CANON, Mentions of Suicide, Other, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), its just a mention of that scene with tommy in the nether, its not really even a sentence though, slight self harm? he digs his fingernails into his arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_skie_s/pseuds/blue_skie_s
Summary: He had noticed a big difference between him and everyone else in the SMP.Everyone there had at least one person who cared about them still and comforted them in their times of need.He had nobody left.He was so lonely...
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: its warm when im cared for, for once [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080005
Comments: 20
Kudos: 604





	It’s Cold Being Alone

**Author's Note:**

> please give criticism to this if theres mistakes
> 
> i’ll try and make other parts much longer if possible  
> maybe  
> i’ll try
> 
> there isn’t enough dream angst or dream and dadza content still  
> i have decided to step in and start helping  
> i’ll make an actual angst oneshot book later lmao

It was cold without people by his side. 

The mocking chatter of the chilled woods echoes through his eardrums and sends a pang of loneliness through his lightly trembling body, giving him painful reminders of past moments spent with the other members of the SMP that he really couldn’t call his own anymore. The whistling of the wind reminds him of screams and yells. The rustling of the trees reminds him of silently stalking after someone and then jumping them. His footsteps remind him of running, running, _running—_

Dream couldn’t help but regret just about everything he’s done. The wars. The fighting. The yelling. The meaningless words. Nearly anything he ever does is absolutely and utterly terrible in everybody else’s book.

...He only wanted the server to be a single, big, happy family, but nothing ever really went the way he wanted it to, did it? 

It all began going wrong when L’manburg was created.

He’d always thought they were happy and close, but he was proved wrong the moment that Wilbur dragged children into making drugs and declaring independence. Dream had fought back against them, of course, but he’d never planned to take away two lives from _Tommy_ of all people that shouldn’t of ever been taken from him so early on. (He regrets it, of course.)

He’d started butting into more conflict afterwards in the hopes that he could calm people and bring them together, but instead, all it did was make it worse, and his family continued crumbling _right in front of him._ His bonds with the others kept fraying and snapping one by one, and he’d snapped and lashed out during the moment. Becoming a _monster_. 

He’d always been considered the villain, hadn’t he?

Fading back to his current situation, he finds his legs giving out and sending him tumbling to the cold, snow-covered ground, any sliver of energy left in him dissipating into thin air and leaving him sitting weakly on the freezing ground. Shudders wrack his body, and it takes him a few moments to register the tears flowing freely down his cheeks, freezing on the way towards the snowy dirt. 

Dream was so _alone,_ and he couldn’t do a single thing about it. Everyone was completely and utterly against him and searching to put his head on a **_fucking_ ** _platter._ Sometimes he’d find his mind drifting to the ‘what if’s of his situation. What if he had just let everyone continue separating? Would they have ended up connecting again? Did him leaving positively affect the SMP? Would anyone _even care that he was gone and so alone so absolutely alone so fucking lonely and empty and numb and he hated himself so much hehatedhimselfsomuch—_

Clutching his arms with shaking hands, he lets a weak sob pull itself from his body, and soon more force themself out and now he’s openly sobbing in an isolated clearing so far from _home so far from his_ **_family_ ** _—_

His mask had fallen a while ago, buried under the snow and never to be seen again. Nobody was going to _look for him._ He was completely _alone_ in this cruel and unforgiving universe, left to pay for his actions and deteriorating state and suffer through his self-destructing existence.

Sometimes, he’ll find himself wondering if this is how Tommy felt during his exile, which had since been lifted by himself. He’d wonder if he was this lonely and numb ( _it made him feel even guiltier_ ). Dream would also think about if he was in Tommy’s position in the Nether ( _would he have jumped_?).

He had noticed a big difference between him and everyone else in the SMP.

Everyone there had at least one person who cared about them still and comforted them in their times of need.

He had nobody left.

He was so _lonely._

His nails dig into his skin as the cold seeps into his skin and chills him to the core, the dull tips drawing blood from his sleeve-covered arms and staining the already dirt-stained green fabric. The current silence pained him immensely, sending him yet another reminder about how he was completely alone and that _everyone hated his guts and wanted him dead and gone and_ **_suffering_ ** _—_

With a choked sob, he falls forward and curls into himself, ears feeling like they’re stuffed with cotton and eyes drooping tiredly but refusing to let him just _sleep_ _(he hadn’t slept well in weeks, months even, but it didn’t matter when everyone despised him_.) Dream doesn’t bother to try and muffle his loud sobs and wails, he’s just too _weak to..._

Snowflakes melt and soak into his sweatshirt, leaving him shivering harder than he already was. His fingers were already numbed, turning a bluish color. It leaves him wishing for someone’s warm embrace, the comforting touch of another (that he knew he’d never get).

Dream’s vision was beginning to blur, and the fuzzy noise in his ears was just getting _louder and_ **_louder_ ** _._ It was _too loud too loud way too loud tooLOUD—_

He lets out a wail, curling into a tight ball with his forehead pressed carelessly against the snow. Salty tears flow down his face like a waterfall, and melt the snow as they fall. There’s snow piling up on his back, making his body even colder than it already was. He thinks he’s sobbing loudly still. Dream can’t quite tell. He squeezes his eyes shut.

_Everything’s too loud too cold too lonely he’s so alone can he go back now he wants to be home with Sappy and George and he wants to be warm and he wants a hug and he wants to make everything alright again and he wants his family back he wants to see Tubs and Tommy and Purp he wants to hug Bad and he wants to cuddle with Fundy he wants to spar with Tech he wants to listen to Wil play guitar and sing and he_ **_doesn’t want to do this anymore_ ** _—_

There’s something soft covering him.

Gentle hands are tugging his own hands away from his hair (when did they get there?). The snow isn’t falling on him anymore, and there’s something _warming him._ He lets out another sob, gripping the _soft thing soft and warm and comforting_ and bringing it closer to his body. There’s a warm palm pressed against his cheek, and fingers brushing hair out of his eyes. He leans into the touch.

He can hear a calming voice talking, although he can’t really tell what they’re saying. The warm thing is being buttoned around his neck, Dream’s pretty sure. He can feel the hand on his cheek rubbing a finger comfortingly over it, too. The cotton feeling in his ears slowly dissipates and lets him hear snippets of what the other person near him is even saying.

“—it’s gonna— okay— breathe— I’m here—“

Dream slowly opens his eyes, blinking a couple times to clear the tears in them (more just take their place). He shifts his head and looks up, almost immediately being met with the gaze of (a fairly blurry) Phil. Another sob finds its way out of him, and he leans further into Phil’s hand on his cheek. He can faintly hear Phil gasp, and now he’s being pulled into Phil’s embrace, and another choked sob climbs out of his throat, because he’s so _warm and Dream hasn’t felt warmth in so long and he’s been so alone and scared—_

“Hey, hey… it’s alright, breathe, Dream, okay?” he hears Phil say softly and _caringly_ into his ear, rubbing his back. He wails again, burying his head into the crook of Phil’s neck and clutching the older man’s shirt. Phil’s wings are shielding him from the cold and the winter and it’s so comforting and _he isn’t alone right now he’s not alone right now Phil’s here with him and he’s being so nice to him he hasn’t been cared for in so long—_

“Shh… I’m here…” Phil whispers, holding him closer. Dream lets out a hiccup, sniffling and shutting his eyes again.

_“...warm…_ ” he mumbles, inhaling the scent of firewood and a warm waft of vanilla that reminded him of sitting at home in front of the fire with his family during the freezing days of winter, wrapped in fuzzy blankets and in a cuddle pile with those close to him _that hate him now he’s hurt them so much and they hate him he’s so naive and evil he’s the villain he’s the bad guy he doesn’t wanna be the bad guy he’ll be good give him a chance please he wants to make things right let him make things right don’t leave him alone please don’t—_

He hugs Phil tighter, and only now does he realize that he’s being carried by him. To where, he’s not quite sure, but… he hopes he can maybe stay with him ( _he doesn’t want to go back, he doesn’t want to be the cause of more issues, more conflict, more trauma, more deaths, more anger, more betrayal, more war, more yelling, more drifting apart…_ ). Besides, if he even wanted to run in the first place, he wasn’t sure he’d even been able to. He’d been running on aching, hungered, restless nights for too long, and his energy was spent, gone with the wind and the birds, the clouds and the sun, the moon and the stars ( _sometimes he wishes he was good enough to join their ranks some day. Deep down he’s sure he’s never gonna get the chance to)._

He can hear Phil’s soft voice talking to him quietly, and he sighs, his eyelids fluttering shut. Dream feels _cared for_ , and he feels _safe (he doesn’t feel scared for his life, or paranoid of getting ambushed, or, currently, the guilt of his actions)._ No matter where he’s being taken, he’s sure he can trust Phil to not hurt him. _He hasn’t gotten sleep in so long… maybe a small nap won’t hurt…_

Dream’s lulled to the void of rest by the rhythmic, faint bouncing from Phil walking, his caring words and tone, Phil’s warm embrace, and the comforting scent of something he would personally consider belonged to a piece of his past home ( _even if it wasn’t truly, it was close enough.)_

**Author's Note:**

> i’ll make a phil pov for this at some point
> 
> this is becoming a series im making it a series guys you csnt stop me


End file.
